


Friday I’m In Love

by vkheis



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friends With Benefits, M/M, markhyuck rock band au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:34:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26478040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vkheis/pseuds/vkheis
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Kudos: 15





	Friday I’m In Love

“What do you think of this, Mark?”

It’s a tricky question. It’s too generic a question to answer as if nothing, with a simple sentence or in a single conversation. What does Mark think of this; well, Mark thinks a lot of things. He thinks the lighting is ideal, reddish tones but not too warm, in a room decorated so cozy but honestly cool.

He also thinks that the temperature is perfect, now that his body is cooling down after being so hot inside and out, ideal to be able to be naked and not feel his skin bristle in the least. He thinks that the music playing in the background has been pushed and forgotten until he has come out of the dizziness and drowsiness of his orgasm. Thinks away that the chosen playlist was a good one. 

Mark rolls onto his stomach on the mattress, on the fluffy white blanket that reflects the magenta scale on its clean fabric. He gives a big sigh, swallows, looks at the wall, at the posters of classic rock and heavy metal bands. At the bedside table, at the purple lava lamp. At the open, sticky bottle of lube, at his discarded underwear on a corner. Looks at his slightly rough palms from Donghyuck’s dried cum traces. 

His eyes drift to the side, past the bed, slowly. There’s no hurry. Mark looks at Donghyuck, at his piercing gaze meeting him from the carpet on the floor, only wearing his black boxers. He looks at the marks on his neck and collarbones, the ones from Mark’s lips, but so light that they will disappear any moment. Because the boy no longer belongs to him. 

What does Mark think of this? Donghyuck’s question is not the right one. 

“What do you want me to think?” Mark asks instead. 

He really thinks a lot of things, but none of them should be heard by Donghyuck. None of them should be heard, so Mark saves them to himself.

“That this is wrong.”

The concept of wrong has changed its meaning in Mark’s dictionary a long time ago.

“Do you think this is wrong then?”

“No,” Donghyuck answers. His eyes lower enough to find his white T-shirt. With a lazy gesture he grabs it and starts dressing. “But this is stupid, isn’t it? What are we even doing? One of us will have to admit it at some point.”

This is, to a greater extent, certainly stupid. That’s what the others say, what Yukhei says, what Jaemin says. What Johnny and Doyoung commented the other day. Surely Mark now has a message from Taeyong on his phone warning him not to make the same mistakes again, over and over.

But none of them are here. None of them are seeing this nice tonality of light, none of them is rediscovering the background music. 

“We are adults.” Mark sticks his thumb through his incisors. Chews it like the end of a pen. “We can do whatever we want, whenever we want. We can fuck whoever we want.”

None of his friends are feeling how soft and comfortable Donghyuck’s sheets are. Neither can they smell the scent of sex that fills the room. Neither Yukhei nor Jaemin are seeing Donghyuck right now, messy, fluffy hair, still flushed from the effort and the pleasure.

His beautiful lips swollen from kissing, from sucking Mark off; his beautiful singer voice now a bit husky from moaning for hours, his beautiful eyes hooded in a perfect pleased expression for having come inside Mark twice tonight.

“Yeah,” replies. “But what do you think.”

None of his friends feels like Mark. None of them has loved Donghyuck so much for years. None of them has lost him forever. 

“I don’t fucking care, Donghyuck,” he mumbles. Neither they nor anyone else in the world loves Donghyuck more than Mark does right now. “If you’re so worried about it I won’t come back anymore.”

He presses his lips as he looks away, wets them, dry and cold, hopes that Donghyuck snorts a laugh to dismiss that suggestion. But the silent seconds accumulate without a response. 

No one but him is just as scared to say his own words as Mark. Because he cannot, and must not admit, not to let go of the light grip that still lies to him to Donghyuck beyond the band and his friends. Lying is so cheap when the truth involves so much loss.


End file.
